Page 20 of Stormbinder King
“You’re mine,” he growled in my ear, and I felt his hot cum pour into me, “I’m the only one who can touch you like this.Forever.”
The throbbing in my new tattoo subsided as my body shuddered with the release, falling boneless and weak into Jack’s arms.
“I love you,” I whispered. “I love you, my mate.”
7
The Stormbinder Pack was so close-knit and tight that I hoped for the first time in a long while to feel a sense ofbelongingsomewhere.
But as I settled into my first days and weeks in the treetop village, it didn’t seem like that was happening.
In fact, the Pack seemed downright hostile.
At first, I worried it was the protective spell Jack had put on me.
I loved how protective he was, how worried he was about me. No one had ever been that concerned about my wellbeing before. Of course, I wasn’t going to go into the forest by myself, so maybe the spell didn’t need to bethispowerful.
It was so much more than the gentle everyday spells I saw the Pack use, the little trails of starshine to move a heavy log or light one of the beeswax candles.
I tried very carefully not to touch or brush against anyone accidentally, because it meant they were wracked with excruciating pain. But even with all my care most of the Pack only looked at me with wary sideways glances.
No one responded to my halting attempts to make friends.
And then there was Aurelia. She looked at me with such outright hostility that it was obvious that she wanted Jack and he had rejected her.
I tried to remember that Jack’s rejection would sting badly, so I swallowed my fear and complimented her food or clothes.
Nothing worked.
In the village, strong, young shifters spent their days roaming the boundaries of the Stormbinder lands and hunting, then dressing and preparing their kills. In the evening, they mended tools and homes and drank the deep, plum-colored wine and tart berry beers.
Old or weak shifters gathered and prepared food and did mending or repairs.
And of all the women in the Pack, of course Aurelia, who was so jealous of me, was assigned to help me find my footing in my new treetop home.
One day she was teaching me how to skin a kill, another boar Jack had brought down.
I listened to her impatient, sharp instructions, then began to gag as she handed me a knife, turning away from the biting bitter iron smell to throw up on the ground.
“Weak,” she said angrily as I took my knife to the animal, my cut sloppy, mangling the fur. “Do it right the first time, idiot, and don’t waste his kills.”
“Why do you hate me so much?” I asked boldly. “Is it because Jack chose me and not you?”
I felt Aurelia still, her fingers tighten around the knife, a small, almost imperceptible intake of breath.
But then she laughed.
“I don’t hate you. I just think you’re a bratty little bitch and Jack is going to regret what he did.”
My lips trembled.
“N-no, he isn’t,” I said, hating that I couldn’t quite suppress my stutter.
“Don’t backtalk,” she said, flicking me sharply on the forehead.
I instantly smelled the low burning sizzle of magic, and Aurelia ripped her hand away, her face whitening with the pain.
“That hurt, didn’t it?” I said childishly, feeling ridiculously like I wanted to cry.
